Consequences (4 page)

He chuckled lightly. “Now, push that ass back and hold on to the desk.”

He didn't have to tell me twice. I heard a zipper and his slacks fell to the floor. In a matter of seconds he had a condom on. Jrue moved between my thighs, gripping my ass just the way I liked it, and spread me wide. He slowly eased inside a little at a time, and I thought I was going to die from the pleasure.

“Oooh yes,” I moaned as he slid farther, then pulled out slightly before pushing forward again. Dammit, he was teasing me, reminding me who was in control. Jrue knew just how to make sure my body craved him.

I squirmed. “I want to feel all of it, dammit!” I said, urging him to pound my ass. Finally, he pushed all the way in. Nothing had ever felt so good. Using the desk as leverage, I rocked my body back, matching his steady rhythm.

Jrue held on to my hips and penetrated hard and deep. With my mouth closed, I moaned, trying to hold it in, when what I wanted to do was scream at the top of my lungs how good this man was making me feel.

“Ooooh, shit, you feel good!” Jrue groaned and steadied his strokes.

Reaching around, his thumb massaged my clit again. And when he pulled out and slammed back in again, I cried out his name. “JJJJJJrue!”

“Shhh,” he whispered and began to move faster, driving even deeper. “Don't forget . . . the walls . . . are thin,” he reminded me between pumps.

Fuck it. Let them listen.

Within seconds, Jrue was sexing me harder and burying himself so deep I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold on. “Come for me, Trinette,” he coaxed, and that was all the encouragement I needed. My inner walls squeezed his length as a long and powerful climax tore through my body. I clamped my teeth into my lower lip, suppressing Jrue's name, and screamed inside. Jrue continued to pound and shortly after I heard a loud moan; then his body slumped on top of me.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” I managed between breaths.

“I don't give a damn,” Jrue growled, and pressed his lips to my ear. “Nothing is gonna stop me from making love to you.”

I wanted to say his wife had last night, but decided to leave it alone.

“How about on Sunday we drive down to Charlottesville and have dinner?”

What he really meant was Ms. Netta was on the menu.

“It's gonna cost you,” I warned.

Grinning, he nodded. “I think I can afford it.”

Yes, he could. His grandfather, a real-estate tycoon, was loaded and had left him millions.

We fixed our clothes; then he kissed me once more and returned to his office. I reached for the can of air freshener from under my desk and quickly sprayed the room before I opened the door. No one would think twice about the heavy scent since I always liked my office to smell good. Just like me.

The phone on my desk rang, indicating it was time for me to get my ass back to work. I grabbed the phone and sang, “Great Expectations, Trinette Montgomery speaking.”

An even, merry voice came over the phone. “Good afternoon, Trinette. This is Natasha, Dr. Parks' nurse.”

As soon as she identified herself, I sat up straight on the chair. “Oh, yes. I've been waiting for your call.” My heart was pounding so hard I could barely get the words out.

“I just wanted to call and congratulate you. Your test came back positive. You're pregnant.”

5

Nikki

I pushed the cart to the front of the store. My assistant, Karen, had been busy checking out customers all morning, so I had no problem pitching in when time permitted. The one thing I loved about owning my own bookstore was seeing all of the new books as they came in from the distributor.

I was in the African-American section adding a few new authors to the shelves, as well as some of the more popular ones. I noticed two copies of Naomi Chase's latest book that were supposed to be on reserve behind the desk had accidently gotten in the wrong pile. Ever since that author came blazing into the literary world, her books were hard for me to keep in my store.

Some of my customers complained that I segregated black books, but I did it for a reason. I wanted to make sure that African-American authors had a chance. How else can you introduce readers to new authors if their books are thrown on the shelves with all the others? As soon as you walked into my store, the colorful books were proudly displayed with eye-catching banners, poster-size cover displays, and more. The large section was proof that AA books were popular and our folks really do read, but I'm not going to lie. I kept the section close to the front of the store where Karen could keep a watchful eye on anyone who was browsing the aisle. No offense, but the popular authors, Carl Weber, Mary B. Morrison, and Zane, their books always seemed to come up short in my inventory and I just wasn't having any more of that. It's a shame that black folks would rather borrow and steal a book before spending money, yet we had no problem getting our hair and nails done on a regular basis. All I can do is shake my damn head. Sometime our priorities aren't where they should be. Hell, I would know. I had been that same person back in the day.

I spent most of the late afternoon rearranging books on the shelf to showcase a new author who was coming into the store next weekend for a book signing. I also had a dozen on display in the storefront window. Like I said, I believed in supporting authors.

I was down on my knees when I remembered I still needed to get the podium and microphone from the storeroom and set them up. Wednesdays were open mic night, and by seven o'clock the couches in back would be filled with students from the University of Missouri–St. Louis and from the local area for poetry, singing, and spoken word. Mia, a student, facilitated the event, while two others assisted with serving coffees and teas. After Aiden was born, I had hired a part-time evening manager to run the store and allow me more time with my family. Terrence Miller, a business major, was a godsend. He usually relieved me by seven.

The phone rang and I rose from my knees and walked up to the desk just as Karen was saying good-bye to a customer with two little children. I grabbed the phone before whoever was on the other line hung up.

“Book Ends, how may I help you?”

“Nikki Truth, please.”

My brow bunched because I knew that voice. “This is Nikki.”

“Hey, Nikki . . . this is Ann. I hate to bother you, but we're about to close and Aiden still hasn't been picked up.”

“What?” I glanced over at the clock on the wall. It was almost six. Where the hell was Donovan? “Ann, I'm so sorry. Let me see if I can reach my husband. Otherwise, I'm on my way to get him.”

“Okay, ummm . . .” She paused and I didn't miss the hesitation. “I've been meaning to talk to you. I know this isn't any of my business, but yesterday when your husband came by to pick up Aiden, I smelled liquor on his breath.”

I didn't even respond because in all honesty I didn't know what to say. I knew Donovan had been drinking more than normal, but I hadn't realized he was starting so early.

“Really?” I said, then gasped for dramatic effect. “Thanks for telling me. I'm on my way.” I hung up because I just didn't want to hear anything else about my husband or his behavior. I was confident it was nothing he and I couldn't work out ourselves.

“Karen, I need to go and pick up Aiden from daycare. As soon as Dominique comes in to relieve you, could you please set up the mic before you go?” Dominique was my part-time cashier.

She looked at me and nodded. Hell, it wasn't like it was the first time she'd had to cover the store while I jetted off. “Sure, no problem. Is something wrong?”

We had been working together long enough that I guess she could tell when something wasn't right with me. But I just couldn't bring myself to tell anyone yet what was going on in my house. Big Mama had always said keep your problems between you and your husband. It was times like this I missed her so much. She had been the only person I had ever been able to talk to. Sure, I had a mother, but she and I had never been close like me and my grandmother, who had passed away over three years ago.

I shook my head. “No, everything's fine. I guess Donovan forgot he's supposed to pick up Aiden.” I couldn't even look at her as I spoke, because it was all a lie. Lying was something I had been doing a lot of lately. I moved back to my office, grabbed my purse, and as I headed to my car I called Donovan on his cell phone and got no answer.

An hour later, I carried a sleepy Aiden into the house and up to his room. He was such a good little boy and beautiful, too, with dark mahogany skin like me and dimples that could melt a lady's heart. I slipped him under the covers and kissed his cheek, then went in search of my husband. I found him in our bed, asleep.

“Donovan!” I called out to him. When I got no answer, I leaned over the bed and tapped him on the shoulder. The second I made contact, his eyelids flew open and he jumped up, screamed, and rolled out of the bed onto the floor. He scared me so bad, I jerked back and bumped my head on the wall. “Dammit!”

He was in such a panic it took Donovan a few seconds before he remembered where he was. “Why the hell you sneak up on me?” he shouted.

I was rubbing the back of my head. Damn, that hurt. “I didn't sneak up on you. I called your name.”

He kicked away the sheet that was tangled around his legs. “Then you should have called louder.” Donovan then rose and noticed me holding my head and immediately his expression softened. “Are you hurt?” He walked over and took a closer look, clearly concerned. One thing about my husband, he would never raise his hands to a woman.

I shook my head and lied. “No, I'm fine.”

He kissed my cheek and stood in front of me. I took a moment to take a good look at him, standing there in nothing but boxer briefs. My husband had a body, so it was truly a beautiful sight. However, I suddenly noticed he was starting to lose weight, so the briefs didn't hug his butt the way they used to and he knew how much I loved gripping that ass. There were also the dark bags under his eyes, and he had two-day growth at his chin. Where the hell was the gorgeous man who had held me in his arms and made love to me less than a week ago?

“Help me to understand . . . what are you doing in bed? Did you even go into the barbershop today?” I asked.

Donovan scrubbed a hand across his face and shook his head. “I didn't feel like it.”

I wanted to scream at his ass to snap out of it. He hadn't felt like it in over a week and it was starting to annoy the hell out of me. I guess what I wanted was for the man who had left for Afghanistan fifteen months ago to come walking through that door, not this alien invasion who was impersonating him.

I took a deep breath, then stepped closer to Donovan and gave him a huge hug and was pleased not to smell the stink of stale alcohol. “Baby, you've gotta snap out of it.”

“Snap out of what?” he shouted, then backed away from my grasp. “I just got back, Nikki. Damn! Give yo man some time to adjust to being at home. You expect everything to just be the way it was. Well, guess what? It ain't. I need time to get used to being home.”

I looked into his eyes, hoping he could see evidence of how worried I was about him. “It's already been three months. How much longer is it going to take? I'm trying to be patient. Really, I am, but Aiden and I need you.” Lord knows I was trying to be a loving and supportive wife, but this was getting to be a bit much.

Donovan closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his hands. I know he was tired of having this same discussion. Well, guess what? So was I. I wanted my husband back. He had been my rock. The old Donovan had always had my back and his goal, first and foremost, was to make sure his wife was happy. Before he'd been deployed we'd made love almost every night and had an insatiable appetite for each other, but now it was hit and miss. I ain't gotta have it all the time, but can I get it at least consistently? Last night, I reached over and grabbed what I wanted and he had pushed my hand away. What man does that?

I lowered onto the bed and forced myself to take a deep breath before I ended up saying something I'd later regret. “You forgot to pick Aiden up from daycare.”

He swung around and I saw the look of confusion before my words suddenly registered. “Oh, damn! Baby, I'm sorry. I guess I should have set an alarm or something.”

Seriously
? Was that all he had to say? He should have set a damn alarm. I raised a finger, ready to light into his ass, then thought better of it. Arguing was clearly a waste of precious time that I did not have. Thanks to him.

“I've gotta get back to the bookstore. Are you going to be able to watch Aiden until I get back?”

“Why the fuck you ask me that? Of course I can watch my son.” He shook his head and sucked his teeth, but I didn't care.

“I'm just asking,” I said with attitude. “By the way . . . one of the daycare assistants mentioned she smelled alcohol on your breath yesterday.” I raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and searched his face for some kind of reaction.

“Which one? The chick with the wide forehead?” Donovan rolled his eyes. “Probably because she tried slipping me her phone number and I turned her skinny ass down.”

I didn't know what to make of what he said. Part of me really wanted to believe it was just a jealous chick hating on my happiness, but deep down I knew it was more than that. “Listen, Don, I don't know what the hell is going on with you and I'm trying to be patient, but that's
my
baby sleeping down the hall, and I'll be damned before I let anything happen to another one of my kids.”

His eyes widened, letting me know that he knew what, or in this case, whom I was referring to. “You think I don't know that,” he stressed. “I can't believe you gonna sit up here and think I would do anything to harm my son.” He had the nerve to try and look like his feelings were hurt, but I wasn't bullshitting. There was no way I would allow anything to happen to Aiden.

“That might be the case,” I snarled with attitude. “But until things get better with you, the
only
person who'll be taking Aiden to and from daycare will be me.”

Donovan turned his dark eyes to me and gave me an evil look, but must have seen the fear in mine and backed down. I just wasn't about to take that chance and allow anything to happen to my only child.

As I took a seat on the bed, my mind flashed back to when I had first opened my bookstore. I had just finished working a double shift and was in the backyard lying on a recliner while my daughter, Mimi, played with her toys. I had dozed off and apparently the gate hadn't been properly secured. Mimi had only been two years old when she had run out into the street and was hit by a car. Losing her had ripped a hole in my heart and my marriage that had taken years to repair. Just thinking about that time in my life caused my hands to shake. I'm sorry, but there was no way I could ever endure that pain again.

Donovan came around to the side of the bed, took a seat beside me, and studied my face, probably still trying to figure out if I was serious. Did I stutter? Hell yeah, I was serious.

He hesitated, then said, “Nikki, I'm really sorry. I didn't sleep good last night. I went to the gym this morning and then tried to watch a little television and the eyelids got heavy. Like I said, I didn't plan on oversleeping . . . it just happened. I'm sorry, baby, really I am.” Donovan grabbed me and pulled me close, and I felt my cold attitude starting to thaw. I desperately wanted to believe him. “Trust me, baby. It won't ever happen again.”

I was starting to feel bad for doubting him. Easing back slightly, I gave him a weak smile. “I know it won't.”

Then he French-kissed me and I wrapped my arms tightly around him and prayed that for once he was right.